The Thief

Recently, I read Kahil Gibran’s prose" The Criminal”. I have read it at least two other times in the past but this recent read had effected me more so than the past reads. So much so, that I was inspired to write this sonnet not too long after I put the book down. In Gibran’s prose the man from the beginning was poor. How he winds up, to me, at least seemed fated. In my sonnet, in the first quatrain I added the God Moros (God Of Destiny) to build on my theme (Fate) The stars were dim when he entered as man. The angry Moros god unfurled his wrath on mothers womb, thus poverty began its dolorous debilitating path. His youthful foes were always hunger-pangs. He'd sit at byways begging alms to no avail. Idle dinner bells ne'er rang. He'd think, when might I eat? He didn't know. Unfed and desperate he took to theft. Thus headed for the corner grocer's store. A stolen staple booty was fetched, but yet a meal was not in store--seized at the door! Predetermined ill fate forced him to steal to earn him an incarcerated meal.